Chapter 401 – The Aloof Male God’s Exclusive CP – Rumors (08)
With Qi Yuanxu’s guidance, Bai Tang’s voice acting improved at an astonishing speed. Before long, he landed a supporting male role.
“Hello everyone, I’m Pinecone. I’m very happy to be working with all the seniors. If there’s anything I don’t do well, please feel free to point it out.”
Everyone knew how to say polite words, but no one really took them seriously.
Qi Yuanxu had a major project recently and rarely came home. At the moment, Bai Tang was the only one staying in the villa.
Late at night, when everything was quiet, Bai Tang was still practicing his lines.
Because he was a newcomer yet immediately obtained the role of the second male lead, some people were unconvinced.
For example, the CV voicing the male lead this time had been doing voice acting for three years and had only just received his first male lead role. Toward Bai Tang—who had joined and instantly gained the favor of many CVs, especially the female ones—he felt particularly resentful.
“Pinecone, this is your first time doing voice acting, right?” After the rehearsal ended, Lin Zigao casually started chatting, seemingly bringing the topic to Bai Tang without intention.
Qiu’er and Xiao A had already gone to sleep. No one was there to warn Bai Tang. Besides, it was hard to read people’s intentions—especially when they were separated by the internet. The innocent little squirrel had no idea the other party was laying a verbal trap for him.
“Yeah, it’s my first time. It’s pretty fun.”
Bai Tang had only tried voice acting out of curiosity—he simply wanted to experience something new. After all, when one partner sings, the other follows along. Since Ah Xu was a CV大神, how could he remain completely ignorant about it?
“Getting the second male role on your first try—your trial period went really well. Maybe you’ll become famous from a single drama.”
In front of his computer, Lin Zigao’s expression twisted. His jealousy only deepened.
He didn’t believe for a second that Pinecone had entered the production team without someone backing him.
And sure enough, some people followed Lin Zigao’s words and began to overthink things. Wasn’t it true?
Bai Tang’s voice acting wasn’t particularly outstanding. During rehearsals, he had even NG’d several times. It was clear he wasn’t some naturally gifted prodigy—so how did he suddenly get the role of the second male lead?
Moreover, the second male character was supposed to look soft on the outside but be dark on the inside, and Bai Tang didn’t seem capable of carrying that role.
Bai Tang said, “Gaozi is joking. I still have many shortcomings. I can’t become famous from one drama. Senior Yinyue is the truly amazing one—I like Senior Yinyue the most…”
Speaking of the great voice actor, Bai Tang couldn’t help but think of his partner, wondering if A Xu was still working overtime and had eaten.
The little squirrel always acted on impulse. He turned off his open mic and called Qi Yuanxu.
“Hello? Ah Xu, are you off work yet?”
“Not yet. I still have one document to handle. Tang Tang, did you miss me?” Qi Yuanxu glanced at the clock beside him—it was already 1 a.m. Why wasn’t Tang Tang asleep yet?!
“Who missed you? I—I just couldn’t sleep, so I got up to play on the computer…”
“Alright, alright. Tang Tang didn’t miss me—I missed Tang Tang.”
Listening to the soft, sweet voice coming from his phone, the fatigue Qi Yuanxu had accumulated from a full day of work seemed to vanish instantly.
“I won’t be coming home tonight. Tang Tang, make sure you lock the doors and windows before sleeping. Don’t play on the computer anymore—there’s class tomorrow. Be careful you don’t oversleep.”
“Got it! Then I’m hanging up now. Good night, Ah Xu~”
“Good night.”
As a model student, Bai Tang would never do something like skipping class. He put his headphones back on, said good night to the people in the production group, and logged off.
What Bai Tang didn’t know was that while he was on the phone, some people who disliked him had made snide remarks, insinuating that he had gotten into the production through a wealthy backer. Bai Tang didn’t hear them and didn’t respond, which was taken as silent confirmation. His final “good night” before logging off was even interpreted as proof that he had angrily fled in embarrassment.
In the early morning, Qiu’er dutifully woke Bai Tang up. Half-asleep, Bai Tang was tugged along by vines to wash up, eat breakfast, and finally get on the bus.
As soon as he reached the classroom, the drowsy Bai Tang slumped over his desk like a boneless creature.
“Morning, Tang Tang.” Wei Rushuang greeted him energetically.
“Mornin’~” Bai Tang replied weakly, casually letting out a yawn. A tear formed at the corner of his slightly reddened eyes and blinked free.
“M–morning…” Wei Rushuang unconsciously lowered her voice. The little angel had already fallen asleep again. His eyelashes were so long—so pretty…
When it came to Bai Tang’s looks, Wei Rushuang was completely convinced. She even felt a sense of fond protectiveness because of his appearance. After getting to know him better, she realized his personality was nothing like how eloquent and capable he appeared on the surface. Instead, he was meticulous about important matters but adorably scatterbrained about small ones—hitting her weak spot perfectly.
Not wanting to wake Bai Tang, Wei Rushuang softened her movements, listening to the lecture while playing on her phone.
She first messaged “Coffee Without Sugar,” asking about Bai Tang’s recent performance in the voice acting group.
“How about it? The person I recommended isn’t bad, right?” She typed quickly.
Coffee Without Sugar: “Wait a bit. I’m busy right now.”
Wei Rushuang found that odd. Coffee always replied promptly—had something happened?
With questions in mind, she wandered around the club forum and unexpectedly noticed a trending topic in the chat section:
#Shocking! Pinecone Steals a Role!#
Wei Rushuang glanced at Bai Tang sleeping soundly beside her, then turned her attention back to her phone. Bai Tang had clearly been recommended by her and Coffee for the second male role—how had it turned into “stealing a role”?
With a growing sense of unease, Wei Rushuang clicked into the post. From top to bottom, countless people were accusing Bai Tang of stealing the role from a small pink-themed CV.
Wei Rushuang was completely baffled. The role had clearly been recommended by her and Coffee, and Coffee had also thought Bai Tang was suitable—so how had it become a case of Bai Tang snatching someone else’s role?
She went to find Coffee again—who had just finished tearing into someone in a thirteen-message-long argument.
“A bunch of people talking nonsense. Last night…”
Although Coffee Without Sugar hadn’t been present the night before, she had logged in with a secondary account and recorded the audio, originally planning to keep it as behind-the-scenes material. She never expected to end up overhearing a scene full of malicious speculation about someone else.
Just listening to Coffee Without Sugar recount it was enough to make Wei Rushuang furious—let alone how angry Coffee herself must have been after hearing it firsthand.
These people had gone way too far!
Coffee Without Sugar was one of the administrators of the Lingtian Voice Acting Club, so she couldn’t openly fall out with the members. But Wei Rushuang wasn’t going to indulge them. With no evidence at all, how could they accuse Bai Tang of stealing a role? Tell that little pink-themed CV to come out and confront them face to face—would they dare?
Beep, beep, beep.
[Shuang Manyue] has come online.
[Shuang Manyue]: Pinecone was recommended into the production by me because I thought his voice suited the second male role. Whose post was that? How exactly did he “steal” a role? Call your little pink CV out to confront this.
[Coffee Without Sugar]: Shuangshuang, calm down.
[Shuang Manyue]: I am very calm. You dare to make anonymous posts but don’t dare to come forward and admit it. On the internet you swing heavy punches, but in real life you’re timid and submissive—are you really that spineless?
Wei Rushuang had grown up pampered and well cared for. She usually restrained her temper, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have one. The people she protected wouldn’t even dare raise their voices at Bai Tang on a normal day. If Tang Tang ever found out about this, how hurt and upset would he be?
Lin Zigao was still a grown man. Being pointed at and scolded in the voice acting club by a young woman didn’t sit well with him. Although the post had been made using a burner account and few people knew who it was, the one being cursed was still him.
He logged into his alternate account, preparing to talk to Frosted Full Moon.
[HappyHappy]: I made the post. So what? Pinecone was there last night—why didn’t he refute it himself? In the end, he even logged off in fear. What, are people not allowed to talk about it now? So it turns out you were the one who recommended Pinecone to steal the role. You’ve got quite the background yourself, don’t you?
Wei Rushuang’s background really was impressive. When her first drama needed promotion, most of the promotional expenses had been paid by her. It wasn’t to promote herself, but because she wanted more people to hear the drama—to receive more feedback and improve further.
The president of the Lingtian Club, seeing how much Wei Rushuang invested and caring about the club’s development, would give her a bit of extra consideration—while still maintaining fairness and integrity.
Bai Tang was able to receive the second male role because his voice matched the character’s personality, and because both Frosted Full Moon and Coffee Without Sugar had recommended him. That was why the role was given to him.
[Frosted Full Moon]: So you’re that little nobody—your level isn’t even past 10, yet you dare to badmouth people behind their backs. You say he stole a role? Then show some evidence. People have urgent needs, you know. Pinecone didn’t reply last night—maybe he went to the bathroom. What, do you never use the toilet? When you’re desperate, do you just hug a bucket and throw up to solve it?
What Wei Rushuang said was undeniably crude, completely out of line with her upbringing and usual demeanor. Everything she said had been picked up from the various characters she practiced while learning voice acting. Manners depended on who you were dealing with—there was no point being polite to people who lacked basic decency.
[HappyHappy]: Your mouth is filthy.
[Frosted Full Moon]: Not as filthy as yours. Your mouth is dirty, and so is your heart. Life must be really hard for you—making it this far can’t have been easy…
The onlookers were stunned by the verbal duel between Wei Rushuang and Lin Zigao. No one expected gentle, soft-spoken Frosted Full Moon to have such a fiery side. Definitely not someone to mess with.
And “HappyHappy” truly failed to produce any evidence. Frosted Full Moon, on the other hand, openly admitted that she had recommended Pinecone. Meanwhile, HappyHappy couldn’t provide a single concrete point.
Every time Lin Zigao tried to send a carefully edited message, Wei Rushuang shot back with an even longer reply—every line dripping with contempt, yet without a single swear word. He couldn’t even report her account. He was nearly driven mad with anger.
The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. After finally making a name for himself among CVs, he hadn’t suffered this kind of humiliation in a long time. In a moment of hot-headedness, he typed out a message and sent it:
“You just wait. Tomorrow night I’ll show you the evidence—how Pinecone stole the role and climbed his way up.”
As soon as the message went out, the spectators flooded the public chat with “666.” Only then did Lin Zigao realize what he had said. Those words had been nothing but wild guesses—what evidence did he even have?
But the words were already out there. Frosted Full Moon immediately responded in the public chat:
“Fine. I’ll wait. Tomorrow night at 8 p.m., Lingtian Voice Acting Club reception hall. Whoever doesn’t show up is a dog. We’ll be waiting.”
Wei Rushuang knew exactly what the truth was. She had already laid down her words—now she wanted to see who was stupid enough to target her Tang Tang.
With the arrow already on the bowstring, it had to be released. After calming down, Lin Zigao realized there was no turning back. Fortunately, he had used an account registered through a virtual network—unless someone was extremely technically skilled, no one could trace his location. Even if he didn’t show up the next night, what could Frosted Full Moon do?
As for those harsh words—could someone really turn into a dog just because another person said so? This was the age of science, after all. Superstitious nonsense had no place here.
Author’s Note:
Today’s update is respectfully presented with both hands.